


Memories from the Crystal Tower

by Spot of Mummery (Aywren)



Series: Spot of Mummery [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Allag, Allagans, Crystal Tower, Final Fantasy - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aywren/pseuds/Spot%20of%20Mummery
Summary: A series of flashbacks that touch on Amon's youth, growing up in the Crystal Tower.





	1. Memories: Year 10

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The writing within the “Memories” series is 100% headcanon. While I try to write within the boundaries of lore, much of this is pure speculation, and completely just character exploration.
> 
> While I personally feel that the history of Allag should remain a mystery, recreating a realistic environment for Amon’s flashbacks requires me to use a little liberty in describing how things might have been. I go light on the details mostly because I don’t want to define too much, however. And mostly because I have little idea beyond the lorebook how it actually was!
> 
> This series may touch on some darker themes. Time skips will be frequent – these are meant to be samples of important moments, developments and relationships.

“Just  _look_  at those ears,” the girl’s voice whispered with the sound of lips partially hidden by fingers. “Like one of father’s  _hounds_.”

The statement was followed by the laughter of other children that wasn’t hidden at all.

Amon pressed his forehead against the ship’s window, pretending that he didn’t hear. One advantage – or disadvantage – of his long, pointed ears was that he could detect sound quite well, even from a distance.

He wanted to tell them what his mum always said: he’d grow into his slightly-too-large ears one day. But he didn’t think this group of children would be very receptive to his mother’s wisdom. Especially since only the moment before, they were remarking under their breaths on the poor state of his attire.

“He  _smells_  a bit like a hound, too.”

This renewed the snickering from the back corner of the transport ferry.

The children were supposed to remain seated with proper safety restraints on at all times. The mammet attendant had informed them so. Of course, they’d ignored the machine and did as they pleased. Except for Amon, who had never ridden in a sky ferry before, and was experiencing lightheadedness from it all.

Initially, the boy was excited at the prospect of the big adventure he was embarking upon – this ship was transporting the next class of students to the KEEN project. This was an academy meant to nurture the development of the most clever young minds discovered in the Allagan Empire.

Only, Amon hadn’t considered that his more modest upbringing, and late recruitment, would paint him as a target for other children. Especially those who were returning for their second or third year, while matching his age. Where he came from, children didn’t behave like this. Perhaps it was the difference between those from the city and those from the forest settlements.

He  _really_  wasn’t ready when another, tiny girl hobbled past the group, right up to him, and stuck her face near his own. Amon pulled back at this, unable to pretend to ignore it, and wrinkled his brows as the girl…  _sniffed him_.

She then turned to look back over her shoulder, bright auburn hair feathering with the motion. Her voice was strong and unafraid as she proclaimed, “Scylla. You’re a big fat fibber. He doesn’t smell like dogs at all!”

The first girl – Scylla - wrinkled her entire face up in response. This made her dark eyes look ugly, despite the fact she was dressed in finery that would befit a princess. “How would  _you_  know? You can hardly see anything.”

“What a dummy! You don’t have to have good eyes to smell.” Came the smaller girl’s response. When she looked back at Amon, he then realized she was wearing very big, very thick corrective lenses. She just smiled. “Bread, right?”

“Huh?”

“You had fresh baked bread today. I can smell it.”

“Oh… oh yes.” Amon nodded. “Mum made it for my going away.”

“I knew it!” The girl beamed at him, even if her eyes struggled to fully focus on his face. She stuck a hand out to him. “I’m Clio.”

He took her hand gingerly. “Amon.”

“Don’t listen to Scylla,” she told him in a whisper way too loud for it to be discreet. “She just thinks she’s smarter than everyone else. Which is dumb.  _Everyone_  here is smart. We all took the same test, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Indeed, that was how Amon came to be there. Though his family lived far, far in the outskirts of the Empire, every few years or so, the Auditor passed through their land. It was the Auditor’s job to test people. To find those with special abilities and skills.

Or, in Amon’s case, those who tested with abnormally high intelligence levels.

Because they lived so far away, he wasn’t discovered until the age of 10 – which was fairly late. Other than displaying a quick aptitude for learning and devouring any tomes he could get his hands on, Amon had never really showed any outward signs of being extraordinary.

That was not the way the tests apparently saw him. Because as soon as the results came back, a man from the Tower had appeared at their door. He’d come all the way out in the middle of nowhere, just to bring a decree that Amon was found fit to become a part of the KEEN project.

His parents were so proud. To send a child to the service of the Empire would certainly see a betterment for their entire family status. In fact, it would only be a matter of time before they would all move to a location in the city, a generous offer provided by the Empire itself.

“Hey,” Clio leaned uncomfortably closer. So close, Amon could make out each freckle on her face. “Is this your first time seeing it?”

“Seeing what?” Her train of thought darted around so much, Amon had a hard time following the conversation.

“The Crystal Tower, silly.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve never been to the city before,” he admitted.

Her face lit up even more, if that was possible. “We need to find a better spot, then. Come on.”

Clio tugged at his arm a little.

“We’re supposed to stay in our seats,” Amon advised.

She just huffed a little. “That’s nonsense. Do you know the injury rate for sky ferries has dropped over 23% in the past five years?”

“No… uh… actually…”

“Just come  _on_ ,” Clio reached out and pressed the button on the side of his seat, releasing the safety.

Amon was uncertain, but it was hard to resist the girl’s excitement. It  _would_  be nice to be far away from Scylla’s piercing frown. Before he realized it, he was weaving between the seats, following her towards the front of the ship.

That’s when he first really noticed the way Clio moved. Like one leg was shorter than the other, or had a knee that was bent the wrong way. He was too polite to make note of it verbally, but he’d never met someone who was… defective… before. Those issues were usually cloned out on the spot.

Clio motioned to a ladder which had the words “Main Deck” scribed into a panel next to it. As she took hold of the rungs, a mechanical  _whirr_  and  _tick_  sounded behind them.

_-Unauthorized area for passengers. Please return to your seats.-_

Amon grit his teeth, watching the mammet approach them, all lights and sounds. If he didn’t know that it was just a machine, he would have thought it was displaying real frustration. The boy shot a worried glance at Clio, who hobbled down from the ladder quickly.

At first, he thought she was going to comply with the order. It turned out, that’s not what she had in mind at all.

“Oh, hush! Don’t get your circuits in a bunch.” The girl pulled a thin, rectangular device from within her vest pocket. Holding it out, she placed it just in front of the display panel on the mammet’s chest.

The device beeped three times, a little light flashing along the edge. Something within the machine responded, also beeping three times, the eyes flashing as it did. Amon could hear the sound of realignment working within it.

Then, it looked at them as if seeing something completely different than before.  _–Apologies. Please carry on.-_

“Thank you,” Clio told the mammet, withdrawing her device.

Amon’s mouth opened a little as the machine wandered away. “What did you do?”

“Used a control key,” the girl laughed as if that was the most obvious thing ever.

He squinted, looking at the design of her device, trying to hide some of the excitement he felt, “Is that a…  _TSTM-2424_?”

Clio was delighted. “You’ve seen one before?”

“Once,” Amon didn’t want to admit that his family mostly used the refurbished tech and didn’t have access to these top-of-the-line devices.

But, this was something very rare. Even for the city. He couldn’t help but wonder how the girl came to have one.

She didn’t seem to notice his quiet awe, holding it out for him to see. “I’ve modded it with a few tweaks of my own. Including a master control key that works with most of the standard Mazebits.”

Amon could only stand and nod, feeling small at his own lack of knowledge on the topic, something this girl apparently knew inside and out. She spoke with excitement and passion, a quick tittering like a little bird, just happy that anyone would listen.

That’s why he hated to interrupt her, “Were we going to the deck?”

“Oh! Oh, right!” Clio put away her device with a grin, and hoisted herself up the rungs. It took her a few tries to lift the heavy hatch, but as soon as she did, the girl pulled herself through the port above.

If she really did have trouble with her legs, she didn’t let that stop her.

Amon sucked on his lip, not to be outdone, and followed her through the hatch. The moment his head peeked above deck, his silver-white hair was blasted back by the wind. Squinting, it took a moment for him to gain his balance and grab hold of the first thing he could.

Clio stood there, as if being on the deck of an airship was the most natural place for her, leaning dangerously on the rail. She laughed at his timid stare over the side, then motioned with one hand for him to look at the horizon.

Amon gasped.

There it was. The center of their entire civilization.

Syrcus Tower.

It was a massive monolith of brilliant blue crystal. Far larger than even he could have imagined it to be, a great spire of light and hope pointed towards the heavens. It made him feel both so tiny and excited all in the same sharp breath.

“What do you think?” Clio asked, watching his expression with anticipation.

“This is  _amazing!_ ” He shouted above the rushing wind.

“Just wait until you see the inside!”


	2. Memories: Year 14

Amon lay with his back to the earth among the scented wildflowers, his mind lost within the tantalizing symphony of aether that capered around and through him. Though his eyes stared upwards at the brilliant sky, it was only the flow of energy that he saw. One hand idly wove strands of light between his fingers, without him realizing he was doing it.

He’d not shown magical aptitude before coming to the academy at the Crystal Tower. However, tests run by the technologists there determined a strong biological fit to expand his ability to tap into the aetherflow. And so, his aether enhancement injections had begun the previous year.

These were only going to be temporary, but the outcome of the treatment had vastly opened his mind to a world beyond his own senses. It was considered such a rousing success that what was originally intended to be a month of tested development had continued for over a year.

And now, Amon wasn’t sure he could cope a lack of treatments if he wanted to. Without it, his mind ached and hungered, much like his body hungered for food. He’d be the first to admit that being lost to the vast chorus of aether made him feel more alive than anything that the mundane world offered him. Well… except for one thing.

“Amon!” He heard Clio’s familiar voice distantly through the humming of his senses. “I thought I’d find you here.”

His mind shifted, his eyes focused, and as the aether-light parted, the girl’s face materialized above him. Her lips were pursed and he knew she’d heard the news of his latest delinquency.

“Did you  _really_  set Scylla’s dress on fire?” Clio crossed her arms with a frown.

“It was an  _ugly_  dress,” Amon shrugged, not denying it.

“Amon!”

“She has more ugly dresses, I’m sure.”

“Amon!!”

“Really, if her taste in fashion wasn’t so garish, I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths.”

Clio just wrinkled her nose at him. “Is she still giving you a hard time?”

“Every day,” Amon grimaced. “I’m so tired of listening to her incessant barking.”

The girl carefully lowered herself to the ground next to him, wincing with pain as she did. The boy noted that she was wearing her leg braces. Instantly, Amon sat up, offering his hand to steady her. Though Clio often grappled with her pride, today she accepted his help, settling her body in the most comfortable position she could next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be in detention?” Clio asked, taking his attention off of her own pain.

“Why?”

“Becaaaaause?”

“Who’s going to  _make_  me go?” Amon crossed his arms. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but she wasn’t having it.

“If you keep this up, they’ll expel you sooner rather than later.”

He snorted through his nose. “No one’s going to expel  _me_. They’ve got too much invested in my future. They’ve told me so themselves.”  

“So why are you wasting it like this?” Clio asked him gently.

“Because it’s all so dreadfully dull,” Amon told her with a somber look. “There’s nothing in these classes that I can’t find for myself. The only things worth my time are Aetherochemistry and Theater.”

“Yes, and they might restrict your Theater class if you keep skipping all the others.”

The boy snorted again, defensively. “They can  _try_.”

“Amon,” Clio sighed, putting her hand on top of his.

One touch. One motion. Just like that, all the restless frustration drained from him. The girl may not be able to see the aether like he could, but she worked magic in her own ways.

“I’m sorry,” he looked away from her, meaning his words.

“I wish you weren’t so unhappy here.”

“I just feel like… I could be  _doing_ something. Important. Not just sitting here having professors try to drill this drivel into my head,” he told her. “I want to  _make_  something. To  _be_  something. I want to  _do_  something that really  _matters_.”

“I know you do,” Clio searched his face, trying hard to see it through her thick lenses. “I do, too. But this is the first step to that. This is where we show them we’re worthy of that kind of work.”

Amon looked down at his hand, pressed to the ground, hazy flowers poking up through the grass between his fingers. He knew her logic was sound. But how could he explain the things he felt? The things that were happening within him? If Clio ever found out he was still accepting the aether treatments…

“Hey, I had a thought,” her voice cut into his thoughts.

“What?”

“Sign-ups for advanced projects are starting next week,” Clio told him. “Usually only upperclassmen thesis are considered. But maybe you can find a way to use that vast wit and charm of yours to persuade the advisors to let you substitute it for a few of your classes.”

Amon’s eyebrows lifted. “That… is…  _brilliant!_ ”

She smiled a little. “I thought that might be something that’d interest you.”

“Yeah! Why didn’t  _I_  think of that?” He laughed, his spirits lifting substantially at the thought of putting some of his ideas to actual use. Before he realized it, Amon had thrown his arms around Clio in a friendly hug.

The girl winced a bit, her body shuddering at his touch. Immediately, he pulled back with a frown of concern.

“It’s okay,” she breathed out her pain softly. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Amon wasn’t reassured, however. He just pursed his lips and looked down at the flowers again. He knew she’d get frustrated if he spoke what was on his mind. She always did.

“Clio,” he hesitated before saying it. “Maybe we can look into something for you.”

“No.”

“Clio,” Amon insisted. “I’ve seen it lately. You’ve been using your brace more often than not.”

“It comes and goes,” she protested. “I’ll be fine.”

“But what if you won’t? There’s procedures… there’s medicines… there’s clone transplant… there has to be something.”

“ _No_ ,” Clio she said more strongly this time, looking away from him. At that moment, with the sunlight playing in her auburn hair, she looked so tiny and fragile.

“Why…?” he breathed. “I just don’t want to see you… hurting anymore.”

“I know you don’t understand,” she tried to answer. “People do so much to avoid pain in this world… so much that I think they’ve forgotten what it means to struggle. To be human. To live.”

A sudden welling of emotion gripped him from within. It was his turn to put his hand on hers. “You don’t have to bear that pain for everyone else, Clio.”

“I don’t. But I choose to. Someone  _has_  to, Amon.”

“I wish you’d reconsider…” His voice quavered as he shook his head. “But if I can’t change your mind, at least let me help you… in other ways?”

“You already do.” Clio smiled thankfully. Then she laid her head against his shoulder.

 


	3. Memories: Year 17

“Seriously,” Scylla scoffed, looking down her nose at the display on the table before her. “Did you have to bring that mutt to the convention hall?”

“Mutt?” Amon grinned back deviously, picking up Branch A and holding the puppy to his chest. “I’d say this pup has better breeding than you do.”

“You are so asinine,” her dark eyes narrowed as she fumed in that way that’d become so familiar to him over the passing years.

“And he’s a good deal cuter than you are, too.”

Scylla’s fists clenched slightly at her sides, but as she opened her mouth retort, Clio poled her way between them. Leaning on her walking aid, the girl chided them both. “This is a  _professional_ environment, you two.”

“Hrmph. Tell that to him.” Scylla grudgingly moved away from their table, glaring back at them from her own competing project display.

“Yes, and I am  _professionally_  insulting her,” Amon leaned back with a self-satisfied grin as he watched his rival retreat.

“Can’t you behave better?” Clio grumbled at him.

“Sorry, just got the jitters,” he admitted.

“And dog hair.”

Amon looked down at the front of his nice, newly-pressed jacket, which was now covered with assorted puppy hair, gifted so generously by Branch A. He groaned and placed the dog back in the kennel, trying without success to clean himself up before the advisors came to view their project results.

“Come here,” Clio told him, reaching up with her good hand. “I knew this was going to happen.”

He leaned down to her as she produced the aether-charged grooming device, which seemed to magically put right everything wrong when it came to clothing. Thankfully, Clio kept it on hand, because he was terrible with all things formal and orderly. This did away with the dog hair in no time.

She then started to fix his tie.

“That’s fine, I’m sure,” he protested a bit, a bit embarrassed to be fussed over in front of everyone else. That and the fact bending almost double for her to address the situation was putting a crook in his back.

As time had passed, Amon had indeed answered the promise of growing into his once-too-large ears. Tall and still not used to his gangly limbs, he often loomed over most of his peers, even without really meaning to.

At an extreme contrast was Clio, who, due to the nature of her ailments, remained underdeveloped, just as she was in her younger teens. Each year, Amon had grown stronger while she more fragile. But the weakness of her body belied the brilliance of her mind.

Much of their current work relied completely on the underlying technology that Clio had developed. Sure, he worked through a lot of the formulations and knew how to bring it all together. But ideas without the means to express them were nothing more than ideas.

She had the power to make his dreams reality.

They were perfect together. Two parts of a whole.

And though there was a time in his adolescence that Amon had wondered if he’d ever experience the feeling of fulfillment and happiness, as they grew towards adulthood, he now knew he’d found it. Right here. Every day when he walked into the lab to see her smiling face.

He just… didn’t know how to tell her that.

Or maybe she already knew…?

Maybe she felt the same way…?

“Amon,” Clio tapped him on the cheek with a lifted eyebrow. “I’m done.”

“Oh… oh… right,” he gave a nervous laugh as he straightened again to full height.

“You really  _are_  on another planet today,” she teased him.

“I’m trying not to be. I just… have such a good feeling about this.”

“Me, too!”

Branch A barked at their shared excitement from within the kennel. 

“Hold on just a little longer,” Clio told the puppy. “We’ll get you a treat when we get back to the lab.”

The girl was absolutely taken with the creature, despite the fact that it was a clone. Usually, she’d have nothing to do with cloning as a principle. But even she had to grudgingly admit, using a clone was the best way to test the result of their intelligence enhancement treatments.

Branch A was a self-aware clone, and being well-tended, had flourished under their care. Amon was pretty certain that once this convention was over, they’d adopted themselves one pretend-dog.

When the advisors came by to view their display, Amon put on his best theatrical face, and with the art only a showman possessed, began to work the professional crowd. Clio stood by as moral support, but he was the more outgoing one, the one who could sell an idea with a smile.

By the time he was done explaining the results, answering questions and chatting it up with the advisors, their elders were walking away with nods of approval. Once out of earshot, Amon let out a huge breath and slumped in the chair next to Clio in exhaustion.

“You were amazing!” She looped her arms around his neck in her form of a hug. She smelt distantly of cinnamon and sugar.

“And you thought those theater classes were a waste of time,” he grinned back.

“I never thought that!”

“Yes you did.”

She ducked her head a bit as he messed up her hair. Then she protested, “Oh, come on!”

Whether their project won any accolades or not, at that moment, he didn’t really mind. Amon also didn’t care that they were acting like two giddy children in the middle of the scientific convention. With Clio there, his heart was light, full of a hope and joy that words could not describe.

Everything was going to be amazing from then on. He was just sure of it.


	4. Memories: Year 19

“Amon!” Clio’s voice echoed excitedly across the lab. She hobbled into the room at full speed, one hand struggling to wave a sheet of paper in his direction. Branch A barked at her heels, responding with his own excitement to her emotion.

Amon put down the vial he was observing and turned to watch her approach with upraised eyebrows. Everything about her spoke of electric excitement, and he could only wonder what was on that paper that had worked her up.

Clio grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the cluttered couch. She then promptly cleared a spot –unceremoniously dumping everything on the floor – and pulled Amon down to sit down next to her.  Branch A immediately jumped up next to them, tongue lolling out in a wide canine grin.

“Do you know what this is?” she exclaimed.

“Not yet. Are you going to enlighten me?”

“We. Got.  **Funded!** ”

Now it was Amon’s turn to become excited. “WHAT?”

“YES!”

“WHAT? Let me see that!” he reached for the paper, but she pulled it away from his grasp.

Instead, Clio slid into his lap, nestling her head up under his chin like she often did… now that they were officially a couple. It had taken Amon way too long to finally work up the courage to ask her. When he finally did, she just laughed and told him that he should have asked her sooner.

At first, he was a little worried about what would happen when their friendship turned into a relationship. But he really shouldn’t have been. They still had just as much fun together. They still worked until the early hours in the lab together. They still came to brilliant conclusions together. Only now, they were building something personal for their  _own_  future… rather than just for the scientific community.

Amon dotted a little kiss on the top of her head as she began to read the letter out loud to him. Of course, he could have read it himself, but when Clio was in such a state, she needed the verbal release.

It was everything he could have hoped for.

Their research, which focused on expanding their past work with mind-stimulating medicine, had not just been approved to move forward, but was also fully funded by the Tower Academy. There was even talk of eventual distribution once the product was fully tested.

Amon knew what “fully tested” entailed, but didn’t want to sully the moment by bringing up the topic of clones. Especially not clones of people, which this would eventually need. Clio could abide by a cloned dog, but anything beyond that got her riled and in a tizzy.

He didn’t understand it, and hoped that one day, she’d come to see things his way.

“Can you  _believe_  this?” she exclaimed, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Oh, absolutely,” Amon grinned back. “It was only a matter of time. You’re simply too brilliant for the world not to notice.”

Clio shoved his chest with a weak palm. “Hush. You’re just as much a part of this as I am.”

“Maybe so,” he gently teased her hair between his fingers.

They both fell silent for a moment, just sharing the feeling of mutual achievement. Of dreams coming true. Of brilliant things in their future.

Finally, Clio struggled to push herself to her feet. “This calls for a celebration!”

Amon’s strong hand assisted her, and she didn’t resist his help. She’d been relying on him more and more lately, even for simple things. Standing. Getting around. Reaching for things. This concerned him, but she had already given in at his request and begun taking treatments for the pain… which had eventually increased to the point that it disrupted her work.

It was only then she did anything to fight it.

Clio opened the cooling unit and reached inside for the old bottle of wine they’d stowed away for moments like this. It was so little used, and stashed in the back out of the way, so she had to pull it out over other things within the cold storage.

This caused her to knock a few items over. “Oh, crud!”

“Hang on, I’ll get—“

Amon froze in horror. One of the things that fell out of the cooling unit was a syringe.

He usually kept them in back, hidden and far out of her reach. But pulling the wine from its storage jostled things, and one had come loose.

He moved quickly, trying to intercept, but Clio had already reached down and picked it up. His face paled as she held it up to the light, and he hoped beyond hope that her poor vision would keep her from figuring it out.

“What’s this?”

Amon gave a watery laugh, “Oh, I must have left one of the samples in–”

Clio cut him off quickly, having none of it. “You told me you’d stopped accepting these injections years ago.”

His mouth opened soundlessly. There were no words. Nothing but a shameful look at the floor.

“Amon,” she asked, quickly putting the syringe on the counter as if it were a snake. “That wasn’t true, was it?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

A mixture of disappointment and frustration flickered over her face. She picked her next words carefully. “You know many of these serums are untested. They could be dangerous… we don’t know what the long-term outcome is.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re so fine that you have to  _hide_  it from me?”

Amon took in a sharp breath. She was clearly very upset. He racked his brain for the proper answer.

One part of him didn’t want to mess this up. What he had with Clio and everything they’d built together was worth more to him than anything else.

…But the reality was, he didn’t know if he  _could_ stop taking the treatment. Not now. It had been  _so many_  years.  _And it felt too good._

If he stopped, would his growing mastery of magic revert…? Would he lose everything he’d made of himself so far? 

The thought of the aether closing off to his mind… the fear of the raging hunger for power that he’d learned to deal with over the years, but kept hidden in silence.

He could try to tell her? Try to explain? 

Ask for help?

She was the dearest person to him. The one that he could share everything with.

…Everything but  _this_.

Would she understand?

More than once, their stances on science and moral obligations had clashed. They’d come to terms between themselves, but neither of them agreed. She would never budge. She would demand that he stop taking the injections. 

That would be the only answer she’d accept.

_No._

No… she wouldn’t understand. She  _couldn’t_  understand.

So he did what he had learned to do when faced with a no-win situation. He acted.

“You’re right,” Amon told her, putting on his best sheepish face.

Clio’s eyebrows lifted a bit as if she didn’t expect that from him. Then she prodded for more, “Yes, and…?”

“You’re right and… I… I have to stop doing this.”

The way her eyes lit with pleasure made the guilt claw up his throat, almost spilling into his mouth. But he bit down on the truth and turned towards lies.

As her hopeful look returned, Amon just began to think of better ways to hide things from her.


	5. Memories: Year 20

“ _No!_ ” Clio’s voice was more resounding and adamant than Amon had ever heard before.

He knew this conversation was going to be difficult. He just didn’t know how right he’d be.

“Clio,” Amon said calmly, trying to maintain his composure, since she was not. “Be reasonable.”

“I’d be reasonable if you were asking a reasonable thing!” she threw her hands up, almost losing her balance in doing so.

“We both knew this was coming.” He reached out to catch her on reflex.

Clio shoved his hands away. “You’re not using my tech for something like this!”

That caused him to lower his brows, the first hint of frustration Amon had showed so far. “ _Your_  tech? You seem to have forgotten that I’ve had a hand in all of this, too!”

Her face was flushed and it was obvious she was having trouble breathing due to the intensity of her emotion. But she didn’t back down. “If you intend to test this on people clones, then I withdraw my part of the contribution!”

“Clio! They’re  _not_ people!” He made the motion that mimed pulling his hair out. “We’ve talked about this over and over and over.”

“There has to be some other way.”

“You’re not making a bit of sense!” Amon didn’t often use his stature to intimidate or talk down to anyone, especially Clio. But right now, he stood quite tall, rigid and looming in his frustration. “We’re fully funded and approved to move forward. They’re waiting for real results from real biologically-based clones before sending it for safety approval.”

She turned away from him, more angry than anything else. She seemed unable to find the words to continue her side of the argument, so Amon just pressed on.

“If we don’t provide what our funding has supported, this is  _our names_  in the scientific community that we’re shaming!”

Now Clio had fuel for the fire. She looked back up at him with a note of finality, “I’d rather take the shame than stoop to inhumane practices, Amon.”

“But…” He shook his head in disbelief. “There’s nothing inhumane about testing on clones! Now, if these were  _real_  people…”

“They’re  _living things!_ ” she snapped.

“They don’t  _feel_  anything.”

“You don’t _know_  what they feel. You just see them as some tool to use.”

“Because that’s what they are!” Amon jabbed to the desk with one finger to accent each word.

“How can you think that way?” That’s when Clio reached down and picked up Branch A. The clone-dog whined a bit, ears folded back, looking between the two. It was obvious the creature sensed the tension between its two caretakers. “Look at him.”

Amon cursed himself for having chosen to keep the thing. For all outward-facing purposes, Branch A looked and acted like a real dog. But it wasn’t. And now, after spending so much time with it, Clio had it even more ingrained in her that clones could give and receive affection.

“Clio,” Amon shook his head. “We  _made_  him self-aware. Without that, he’d be just–”

“Stop it!” She held Branch A closer to her chest, struggling to maintain the dog’s weight in her arms while balancing without her cane. Then she began to cry softly.

Amon’s frustration and anger melted on the spot. That was one thing he couldn’t abide by.

“Hey…” his voice was soft as he reached a hand towards her.

Clio rejected his motion, and under the weight of dog and sorrow, she toppled back onto the cluttered couch. There, she just sobbed into Branch A’s fur as the clone-dog licked her arm and whined.

Amon watched her in misery, not knowing what to do or say to make things better. He didn’t agree with her. He  _did_ think of clones as a tool. But that was because it was true. 

To see them as anything more was to project worthless emotion into the scientific process. Thinking like that would only delay and hinder the growth of progress.

Why couldn’t she see that?

Why could she care for a fake-dog and people-clones that would never really care for her in return?

After all they’d built together, all that they’d shared… would she really back out of it all based on this one, tiny, insignificant thing?

Amon tried hard not to be angry. Not to let his pride do the talking. But right now, she was just a sniveling mess on the couch and he was the one who held the voice of true reason.

“Listen,” he tried a different approach. “We don’t have to make this choice tonight. Just think about it and tomorrow–”

“I’ve already made my choice, Amon,” Clio peered at him with wet eyes through soft red hair.

“There’s nothing I can say that–”

“No.”

He grit his teeth, feeling a rush of anger pulse through him. 

For a moment, the aether swirled around him, a tantalizing power. Energy that responded to his frustration, waiting for his command. But, instead of calling on the flame that threatened to spill out of him, he slammed his palm on the table, causing the whole thing to rattle.

Clio and Branch A both jumped, staring at him. Then, she tensed and slowly got to her feet, a bit shaky. She’d never looked at him like that before.

What did she see in his face?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

“I’m going to go now,” she told him.

Those words sunk like a weight in Amon’s stomach. He had crossed some invisible line, and there was no taking it back. Instantly he regretted it. Every bit of it.

“Wait, we can work through this,” hovered on his lips.  

“I… I think I need some time apart,” Clio turned away from him, faint tears still in her eyes.

Then, she took the clone-dog and left.  


	6. Memories: Year 21

“Listen, Clio. I know we’ve never been friends,” Scylla had told her earlier that afternoon. “I don’t know what all is going on but… There’s something really wrong with Amon.”

The words haunted Clio, and the fact that it came from Scylla was enough to make her take action. She knew hints of the direction Amon been going before this… and for other people to start to notice did not bode well.

The day that Clio walked out of the lab… the day of their last argument… she had never meant for that to be the end of things for good. But one thing or another seemed to pile up against them, and their relationship had fallen into extreme disrepair over the past six moons.

At first, she just needed some time and space to think about it. Mostly, how to handle Amon. She loved him dearly… he had been her best friend for over ten years. Maybe that’s why this hurt so much.

It wasn’t just their disagreement. There were so many other things that worried her.

His lies – she knew very well he was still lying to her. And if he lied about one thing, what other things did he hide? His behavior had grown more and more erratic over time. So when he displayed aggression that she’d never seen before during their last debate, even if he didn’t directly target her, she was shaken to the point of withdraw.

Amon gave her a few days of solitude after their disagreement before frantically trying to get in touch with her again. She’d avoided responding at first because she still hadn’t figured out the best way to approach the situation.

Then, she began to feel guilty… After all, because of her, everything that Amon had been working on in his professional life had come to a grinding stop. Had she ruined it all for him?

And then, she’d fallen ill.

Clio had lived with sickness her whole life. It was well known that her body was rebelling every bit of health that it could. Fighting itself. Consuming itself. But this was the first time she was so sick for this long… to the point that her family considered her close to her deathbed.

How she survived was a miracle. It something she didn’t want to think about. Her family was well-to-do, so chances are they performed…  _something_ … on her. Even if it were against her will for them to do so.

During those many moons of illness, they’d kept her cloistered away in a sterile environment with very little contact from the outside. She knew from other people that Amon had desperately tried to come see her, but had been denied repeatedly.

Then, one day, he simply stopped coming.

It took time for her to regain the strength it required to move about on her own again. This was the first time she’d returned to the Academy grounds. This was the first time she’d met with old peers. And nowhere did she see Amon.

But she knew where she’d find him. He’d never abandon their lab.

When Clio arrived, she hesitated. It might have been her own nerves playing tricks on her, but something about the whole place felt wrong. A foreboding darkness cast over the windows, as if they’d been covered from the inside. The plants on the steps were withered and left to languish without her care.

She placed her key card against the panel, and to her relief, the door still opened to her. It took her a moment to gather her courage to go inside… and she didn’t know why. Wasn’t this a place of fond memories and many wonderful discoveries?

Why was it then that everything within her was telling her to leave?

It was just as dark inside as it was from the outside. The first thing that hit her was the smell – a very strong scent of chemicals and cryto-liquid. She covered her nose and mouth with her good hand, struggling to make her way deeper as a horror show unfolded before her.

Everywhere she looked, there were specimens. Things in jars.  _Parts_ of things in jars. All neatly labeled in Amon’s handwriting. What used to be their kitchen was now racks and racks of grotesque visages, frozen in death and embalmed for who knows what purpose.

One area in the back – it had once been their sitting area – was now completely curtained off. A strange light peeked from between the folds of stained cloth and sheets that had been thrown haphazardly to form a barrier to her eyes.

There were vials of liquid in many stages of examination. And one particular container that caught her eye as its contents seemed to pulse and flicker with a living phosphorescence.

Clio felt her heart starting to beat faster and faster as she struggled to take it all in. How… how in just the matter of half a year… had something like this…

In the middle of it all, slumped over one of the examination tables, was Amon. Books of all kinds were scattered over the stained surface, and he appeared to have fallen asleep in the middle of whatever research he was currently conducting.

As she drew closer, she felt something in her chest tighten. Next to him was some kind of injection device. It was still hooked up to him, still embedded deep in a vein in his arm. Inside the container was residue of that phosphorescent liquid she’d seen before.

“Amon…!” her dismay came out in a hoarse whisper. “What have you done to yourself?”

His face twitched – she’d forgotten that he had very good hearing – and in a strange, unnatural way, his eyes flicked open. Instantly focused in a frightening intensity, they caught the light and reflected in a way that almost appeared to glow.

Clio drew back with a gasp. A dread filled her and for the first time ever, she fought to stand her ground before her childhood friend.

Amon’s voice rasped from between dry lips, as if he hadn’t spoken to another person in a very long time. “Clio… is it you? You are here… you are well?”

She fought back the tears that threatened to well up, trying to keep her calm. “I’m well. But you…”

Shame trickled across Amon’s face.  He couldn’t look at her. It was as if he didn’t want her to look at him, either.

“What is all this?” Clio summoned up her courage again, mingling it with concern.

He still didn’t answer.

“Amon?”

He reached down and jerked the tube from the transfusion device out of his arm without even a flinch. She winced for him, knowing something like that would have hurt.

“Amon please…”

Finally, he shook his head. “They said you almost died.”

Clio sucked on her bottom lip.

“I couldn’t… I can’t…” Amon choked on the words, running his fingers through his hair. He still didn’t look at her. “I’m sorry… I know how you feel about…”

“About?” she prompted, trying to get more out of him.

“I couldn’t…” He just repeated, like a muddled, broken recording.

Clio’s chest tightened even more. The dread kept growing, filling her to the point of impossibility. She knew she was crossing lines and pushing her luck. She didn’t know what state of mind Amon was in at this point… but for his sake, she needed to find out.

“What are you working on back here?” She changed the topic.

He usually liked to talk about his work. That was always something pleasant to him. So, maybe if she tried to engage on a positive topic, he’d respond.

Instead, his face grew more conflicted, the color draining from his cheeks. “No.”

“No?” She echoed his response, puzzled.

“It’s not for you to see,” Amon bared his teeth, one palm planted on the table as he pushed himself to his feet. It might have been a trick of the shadows, or her own her own unease playing with her vision, but he seemed larger than she remembered.

Clio took a step back, in the direction of the curtain.

Something almost feral crossed his face, something that filled her with cold fear. She had never seen him act this way before.

Yet, he didn’t make a move towards her. Whatever was clouding his senses, he still had enough self-control to know who she was and did not lash out at her.

She took advantage of that. Her hand reached up to yank the curtain away. Then she staggered back, covering her mouth.

It was a conglomeration of her own designs – machines that she built over the years. Mockups that they’d never actually built but discussed. The wall was a mass of machines that circled the large glass pod in the middle.

Inside, she saw herself.

This version of her was perfect. Wrapped in a modest white suit, there wasn’t a blemish on the form. Her legs were straight. Her body unbent by the rigors of life-long illness. Though her eyes were also clear and perfect, they stared lifelessly back at her from within the glass.

She knew what this was.

Amon had cloned her.

“No…” the word squeaked out of her. Revulsion fought with horror and anger.

How could he  _do_  this? How could he…

She felt his presence behind her, now large and dark. His words came as if spoken from the end of a very long tunnel. “Clio… I can fix you…”

She heard the sincerity there. The love. The longing. She knew why. She really did know. She knew he had every good intention to make right what he saw as broken.

But this… this was inexcusable.

“No, Amon. This is  _wrong_ ,” Clio didn’t look at him. Her voice began to lift an octave at a time as her anger rose. “You had  _no right_  to use my designs… my technology… Did you  _secretly_ take  _bio-samples_  from me?”

“I know you don’t understand,” he tried to reason. “But I can make it all better. And then you won’t even remember…”

That terrified her even more. She jerked away, responding in panic, and did the only thing she knew to do in that moment.

Clio grabbed the heaviest, most solid object she could find – one of the poles holding the curtain – and swung. Even if she was disgusted by the thing that mocked her in the tube, she couldn’t bring herself to directly hurt it.

Instead, she brought the pole down on the machinery around it, her own designs. Her own devices. Over and over again, until metal flew and sparks ran across the wall.

Distantly, she hear Amon’s anguished cry as the strange form-that-was-not-her in the tube began to shimmer and flake away. With the machines that supported its form gone, it began to dissolve back into the aether it was made of.

He slammed both palms against the glass as if he could stop the process from happening. The force spiderwebbed cracks across the tube, leaking the fluid from within like tears.

Amon was sobbing, too. Hunched over, he slumped to the ground as everything folded around him.

Clio stood, trying to keep her balance, and let the pole drop from her hand. She shook all over, watching the dearest person in her life falling apart. There was nothing she could do for it. She had caused it.

And now, as unstable as he was, she didn’t know what he’d do to her in return.

After a short time of sobbing deeply, his voice rumbled from the darkness, embodying anger and bitterness. “Get out.”

She froze, struggling to make sense of what she heard.

Amon repeated, this time louder and more forceful,  **“GET OUT!”**

Clio swallowed sharply and began to move towards the door. The last she saw of him, Amon was crumpled on the floor, pieces of his dreams lying in smoking ruin around him.


	7. Memories: Year Unknown

_-Time: Close to the Fall of the Allagan Empire -_

Amon sat, battling absolute boredom in the back row of the Appointment Chamber. This was the unpleasant place where the so-called justice of the Tower was carried out, usually upon rebels, criminals and other riff-raff in Allagan society.

He had no interest in such goings on. To begin with, he cared very little for any brand of justice, especially when everyone knew it was only a farce. If a criminal walked before the Vote in the Appointment Chamber, it was a rhetorical thing. Execution was all but ensured.

Still, appearances were important, especially to the common people who were growing more and more restless under Xande’s heavy hand. It was only a matter of time before something gave. Even Amon knew that. He had his plans and projects… and this unsightly meeting was taking away from his time to work on these much more important things.

Amon usually wasn’t included in the day-to-day metes of justice. This was a specific case, however, because it included tracking down and bringing in individuals who were charged for tampering with and backwards-engineering their own clockwork troops. Because he was the lead Technologist, he was roped into having a say in the ordeal. Not that the outcome would be any different whether he was there or not.

All he wanted right now to get the Vote over with, sentence those responsible to death, and get back to his work.

What actually happened was something far worse.

Amon was jotting some thoughts down on a piece of paper, only half listening to the droning of the lead magistrate. A shuffling on the slick black floor far below indicated that the prisoners were now in presentation. This didn’t interest him – they would be dead by sun-fall. There was no need to look them over.

For some reason, he did. And when he did, Amon saw a familiar face.

She was still bent and frail, and most of the russet color in her hair had turned grey. She’d lost an arm completely, and had replaced both legs with mechanical substitutes. But her glasses were still heavy on a worn face lined with care and age.

“Clio…” her name brushed his lips. A name he’d not thought of in so very long.

And then realization fell on him.

So many times, they’d sent their war machines to fight the rebels and the enemy. So many times the security of those machines was compromised and overcome. Time and again, they continued to develop larger and more complex weapons, and every time, they were compromised.

Because all this time… Clio was working on the  _other_  side.

Against the Tower. Against the Empire. She was a traitor… and because of that, tonight she would die.

They were signaling for the Vote to begin. Amon felt his whole body tense. Suddenly, a conflict… feelings welled up that he didn’t know were possible… that still resided within him… he found himself unable to think clearly.

The prisoners were already found guilty. If he didn’t Vote, they would still die – his vote held no more weight than anyone’s in the Tower. 

And then he would be looked upon with suspicion. Why would the lead Technologist of Xande himself not Vote to smother the rebellion that destroyed their own technology?

Lost so long in his internal struggle, a voice finally spoke and drew him back. “Lord Amon. Your Vote, please.”

At the sound of his name, he saw Clio’s head turn. She scanned the seats with eyes that struggled to see. But eventually they fell on him.

She could not truly see him, hidden behind his mask and strange finery. But he was certain she knew.

Certain that she’d heard all the stories about him. And certain that he had come to represent everything that she hated in their society.

Amon told himself these things, trying to convince himself that he felt nothing. And that he had gone so far over the edge so long ago… that a little more blood on his hands would make no difference. Even the blood of someone he once loved.

Very slowly, he lifted a shaking hand to the magistrate, signaling his Vote.

Clio didn’t look away. Her face was unreadable. And then, it was gone as the group of prisoners was ushered out of the room.

—

Amon fled the chamber as soon as he was able, leaving a storm of billowing aether in his wake. Void-servants quickly moved aside, shivering as he passed. They were used to his bouts of temperament, and knew when to keep away.

When he finally came to his own private room, he stood there shaking, steeped in the shadows of his own making. Then, with a mangled, inhuman shriek, he slashed his arm across the top of his desk, sending everything against the wall violently. Vials shattered, specimens rolled out of their broken jars as if they still had a life of their own, while books and papers flung about the room.

In the end, Amon was left with only torment and silence.


	8. Memories: Afterward

“Oh my  _gods_ ,” Koh breathed as Amon stopped talking. She leaned back with a shaken look. “That  _can’t_  be the end of the story. Tell me you  _stopped_  it! You  _rescued_  her, right?”  

Amon sat rigid, his hands shaking where they gripped his knees. His breathing held the sound of someone on the edge of tears. But then, as if he flipped some magical switch within himself, all signs of emotion were gone again.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m no hero.”

Koh sat there, choked with emotion. She was disturbed by the whole thing, and even a little afraid to be there… alone… with this man who was capable of so much darkness. On the other hand, there was a welling of sympathy and concern, especially watching his emotions bleed through the story, as much as he tried to hide them.

It was hard to know how to feel. Even harder when Amon challenged her.

“Judge me,” he said simply.

Panic flooded her, but thankfully in just that moment, she felt a cool, almost welcome release.

Noah had come, filling her mind.

***

“You already judge yourself enough,” the cat-girl said to him. “Not kind of you to place that sort of responsibility on a child, Amon.”

He grunted under his breath, recognizing the change in speech pattern. Knowing it was Noah he was now talking to.

“I assume you heard the whole thing.”

“Of course,” she leaned back casually, her eyes searching him. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“I’m glad you found it entertaining,” Amon replied flatly.

“Now, come on,” Noah stood up and walked over to him. Unlike Koh, she had very little sense of personal space and no qualms about taking up someone else’s. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What  _do_  you mean?”

“Are you fishing for a response, Amon?”

“Maybe,” he looked away. Then he admitted, “I’ve never told anyone about this before.”

“I see,” Noah perched on the arm of the chair despite the fact he consumed most of the chair already. “Would you like to know what I think?”

“Hmmm…”

“I have a notion that you’ve punished yourself quite a bit already.”

“Not enough,” Amon grumbled. “And the longer I stay here, the more I feel it was a mistake to come back. This world is too good for something like me to exist.”

“Always so dramatic,” Noah sighed at him. “There’s a logical answer to that, Amon.”

“What?”

“ _Become_  the kind of person that deserves this world,” she told him.

He just groaned and made a dismissive head-bob.

“What was that?” Noah caught it. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, Amon of Allag?”

“What of it?”

“I couldn’t see it.” She suddenly leaned dangerously close. Then she reached out to snag his visor. “Need to get rid of this thing.”

He pulled back in alarm, but it was too late. His head-piece resided in Noah’s hand and he was left completely vulnerable to her gaze. Panic rushed through him as he struggled to look every way but at her, even attempting to cover a part of his face.

She caught his hand, and though he was much stronger than she was, he allowed her to pull it away.

“You’re not such a tough guy  _now_ , are you,” Noah chided him gently.

He said nothing. Just sat there, staring at the ground, almost petrified.

“Are you afraid?”

He remained silent.

“Why? You have nothing to hide,” she pulled his chin around to face her, giving the side of his face a soft touch. “Trust me. I’ve had my share of flings. I know a good looking guy when I see one.”

Amon coughed and shook her hand away. “This is inappropriate.”

Noah just laughed at his discomfort and then sighed. “This world has done a number on you, hasn’t it? Now it’s chewed you up, spit you back out, and left you to face the consequences of your choices.”

“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” he muttered.

“Here we are, talking about deserving again,” she put his visor on just to tease him.

Amon couldn’t help but glance over at how ridiculous it looked. A flicker of humor twitched his eyebrows upward. Just a tiny motion. But it was progress.

“In the end,  _we_  choose what we deserve,” Noah told him, the silly visor contrasting with the weight of her words. “For example, despite what you think, you’ve been a very good thing for Koh.”

He furrowed his brows, squinting at her. He was much more expressive now that she could see his face.

“I know what you’re thinking. But this is the first time I’ve seen Koh branch out, meet new people, try new adventures, and really go after a goal the way she has lately,” Noah spread her hands. “Maybe you haven’t answered all of her questions, but some of the information you’ve given her has been enough for her to connect the dots and confirm things about Allagan history that her people could only speculate before.”

“Hmm….”

“In a weird way, Koh really admires you.”

“Well, I’ve blown that now, haven’t I?”

“I don’t think so. I think she needs time to come to terms with who you were in comparison to who you are now.”

“I’m the same person,” Amon argued.

“I disagree,” Noah told him. “And I think as time goes on, you’ll find you have more choice in the matter than you think you do.”

He mulled that over for a moment. Then he asked, “Can I have my visor back?”

“….No.”

**Author's Note:**

> Amon D'Syrcus and friends are my in-game characters can be found on the Mateus RP server in FFXIV. You can also check out https://spotofmummery.tumblr.com to see more Allagan Nonsense, character memes, or interact with Amon if that pleases you!


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